


The Song and the Silence

by cathymee



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathymee/pseuds/cathymee
Summary: And with music comes silence.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins & The Fellowship of the Ring
Kudos: 18





	The Song and the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> LADS LADS LADS IT'S FEELS TIME
> 
> —
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> The characters and the places mentioned in this fanfiction were made by Tolkien himself, and were merely borrowed for the sole purpose of entertainment. Y'all might not know what my real name is, but I can assure you that my surname isn't Tolkien. I only own the craziness.

Frodo laughs, because he needs to. He'd never thought that it was a necessity, a thing that he'll need to do, to convince them that things are still fine, or that there's nothing wrong. He never knew that he could do something to affect them and their moods, and if Frodo needs to cheer them up or calm them down, he'll do it in a heartbeat.

Some says his laughter is like music. A single note that Frodo releases, a slight lilt to an ongoing series of chuckles, could brighten a room and the people within it. The others could join in and his voice and the others' would meld into one, like a song, and it would encourage his heart to do it again, over and over. It was unfair for Pippin to be the only one who would always try and amuse everyone with his antics and endless questions. Frodo _laughs_ , and it _helps_ , and he's glad.

Pippin would still be the one who would start, of course. Or sometimes, even Merry. A joke here, a " _what_?" there, and another joke, and then Frodo giggles, and so everyone smiles. It's always the three of them.

Sam laughs, too, with them. But sometimes they would scold the two of them first, when Merry and Pippin said something rather inappropriate, for even though Frodo is the oldest, Sam would always be the mother. (Frodo smiles at that thought, and Sam smiled back at him.) He would always be there to "coo" ("It's not what I'm doin'– just lookin' after him, that is," said Sam, blushing, when his cousins teased him about it) on Frodo, cheer him up in a different way, by just _being there_ , holding Frodo's elbows when he stumbles a little, keeping him close like he's the younger one.

Gandalf even guffaws once. It was when Pippin said an innocent joke. Cue Frodo's laughter. And then the Wizard's stern look crumbled, and laugh lines gathered and he laughs along.

Aragorn smirks, and then grins, but he never laughs. Maybe a chuckle, but that's it. Frodo tries harder, laughed a little louder than usual— well, _loud_ , indeed, but not _too_ loud— to prompt something out of the Ranger's stoic surface, and it worked, but only once. _But it's a win_ , Frodo told himself. _He'll laugh harder when all of this is over._ And it emboldens him even more, that thought, so he keeps going, with the Ring on his breast and the chain biting on his shoulder and neck, like a pendant, or a noose.

Legolas' laughter is quiet. It mingles with the wind, and is quite a contrary to Gimli's, booming and loud and hearty. But the combination of it is good. Like a note of its own. Like, without the other one, it's incomplete. So Frodo encourages his young cousins even more, and the Elf and the Dwarf's laughter is something that adds to his strength.

Boromir's laughter is in-control. Not too loud, but not too soft, like a laugh of someone who's _comfortable_ , and Frodo's satisfied. The man seemed to find it hard to trust them at the beginning, aside from Merry and Pippin, who doesn't seem to be a threat, and then Sam, who's capable and reliable, and then Gandalf— sometimes, Frodo could hear him call the wizard "Mithrandir"— and then Aragorn, and, knowing full-well that their bickerings are merely a sign of friendship now and not rivalry, trusts Legolas and Gimli. _Does he trust you, though, small one?_ Frodo shakes his head slightly. _He pledges his life to me. I am the one who should trust him, not the other way around._ The Ring did not reply.

His cheeks are pale and his shoulder throbbed, but there's no doubt that his laughter is genuine. It comes out of his chest naturally, not being forced, and it felt nice. It's like singing a song. It's like music.

And with music comes silence.

* * *

Frodo had forgotten how to laugh.

It seems like a ridiculous thought, because _how_ do you even do that? How do you forget something that is a part of you? But he did. When it comes out— the laughter, _his_ laughter, the thing that he _needs_ — it's awkward, not genuine at all, like it used to. Frodo hates it. But he tries. Pippin still jokes around, and Merry still joins, but Frodo can't. There's no laughter from him, so Merry's the one who laughed _for_ him.

Frodo can't coax it out of him naturally, and so when he laughs, it _hurts_. When no one could see him, he coughs the pain out, sits still facing the moon, and waits for the pain in his chest to stop. He wonders if he could do it again. Frodo remembers how it felt, how it's like singing a song. Just like music.

Frodo could still sing, though his voice is still scratchy and all he could manage is some soft tones, and then it's quiet again. Sam sings for him sometimes, continuing where he had left off, and then silence, and it bothers him, but he didn't say anything.

So he can't really say that laughing is like singing now. A shame, it's his favorite thing to say. His laughter should come out more loudly now that he no longer carries a burden, but still, it doesn't. His voice is soft and he can sing but he can't laugh loudly and it's _unfair_. He's not an Elf, a being filled with melancholy and felt worn and felt _old_ just because he'd seen things that not everyone had seen. No. _No_.

Their laughter changes, too, and he focused on that more than his own.

Pippin would still be the one who would start. Or Merry. Again. But there's no more needed " _w_ _hat_?", no more needed words, just a little flicker of lips and raised eyebrows and then the joke was there and they'd laugh. Frodo can't laugh, but the others could.

Sam laughs, but a little more quietly, and there's something shy in it, but Frodo doesn't doubt that it would be louder when they've returned home, where he'd be surrounded by the loving Gamgees, his family, siblings and father and even the Cottons. Sam swats Pippin's hand when the little Took— no longer little in Frodo's eyes, with all he'd gone through— said something inappropriate, like before, but also _unlike_ before, because he used to pat Pip in the chest, but Frodo doesn't think inserting pressure on an injured and bound chest would be a great thing to feel. He's still there. Holding his elbow when Frodo drops on the floor when his feet gave out, soothing him when nightmares came, and wiping his tears and being with him. Sam still keeps him close, like a younger brother of his own, and Frodo's sure he won't fall again.

Gandalf merely smiles. There's something in his eyes, a light of relief and hope, but also a light of weariness and grief. Maybe he wishes to help Frodo, or maybe he wishes to leave, he doesn't know. But Gandalf smiles, and he'd shake his head fondly, and at least it's still something.

Aragorn laughs like how a King does, and it's something that warms his (presumably) frozen heart. It's something that he had said to himself, to get up on his feet and walk and end it so Aragorn could laugh. And he does, but sometimes he'd stop when Frodo's looking at him, and continue again when the Hobbit smiled.

Legolas' laughter is slightly louder. Gimli's the same. Still, a combination, something _beautiful_ blended together. An Elf and a Dwarf, a friendship between them, and laughter in their lips.

Boromir's gone. His heart shuddered to a stop when Faramir first told him, but it's another thing that made him kept going. He had forgiven him even before _it_ happened. The thought that Boromir would want to see his younger brother and the Fellowship laugh, so Frodo stumbled upon his path with determination, clutching the Ring while the chain cuts. And he could imagine him laughing out there, in pure joy, as the King returned and his City was safe and restored and full of light. The flag was pointed towards the West, wherein Boromir awaits his companions in the Halls of Mandos, guided by Lord Námo Himself.

His skin shone pale and his body shivers with coldness. He could not laugh, but his soul sings. He would learn to laugh again. But, for now, the song of his Soul would be the one to quench the silence. Blended along with those of his Fellowship's souls, those who might be unaware of the beauty of how the notes interlaced and a new song started. There would be more laughter in the future. And so Frodo smiles, for now.

Silence would not last long.


End file.
